


Paintbrushes and Piggyback rides.

by scorpiusshug



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus is an artist, Albus is angsty, Bonfire, Confessing Feelings, Cursed Child compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Scorbus, Scorpius Malfoy - Freeform, Scorpius speaks french, Summer Fic, Weasley gathering, albus potter - Freeform, drastoria sad, scorbus cute, scorbus one shot, scorbus summer fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 18:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19910503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiusshug/pseuds/scorpiusshug
Summary: Albus takes Scorpius to a Weasley family gathering, Scorpius is bemused by the Weasley- Potter clan antics. Albus opens up about his feelings.





	Paintbrushes and Piggyback rides.

Glowing embers floated hazily on the midsummer evening breeze, dancing like fireflies away from the bonfire that the Weasley clan were surrounding. 

When Albus has initially invited Scorpius to join him at his family’s annual summer barbecue, he most definitely hadn’t expected Scorpius to agree to come with him. His family could be a handful even for Albus who had spent 16 years of his life in the centre of the chaos that spewed around them whenever they were together, and Albus knew that Scorpius often struggled when surrounded by people, but to his suprise Scorpius had accepted his invitation and had owled him back instantly that he would love to come. Albus had a sneaking suspicion that the Malfoy Manor was a rather lonely place to spend the summer all by himself and Scorpius was going to throw himself into any opportunity he had to meet his best friend. 

Scorpius had tumbled through the floo network at the Potters cottage earlier that day and James and Albus had spent several hours giving him a briefing of how to survive a Weasley family gathering: most importantly to never accept anything given to you by uncle George or uncle Ron.   
As they grabbed the portkey that would take the whole Potter clan to the burrow, Albus’s hand found Scorpius’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze before the world distorted before them and they found themselves outside the Weasley’s door. 

Albus watched as Scorpius took it all in. His younger cousins were chasing each other throughout the garden playing something which looked a bit like hide and seek amongst the various twisting pathways and plants that made up molly’s garden, Arthur was standing next to the barbecue enthusiastically explaining how clever it was to a rather bemused Ron, some of his uncles were setting up a game of quidditch and passing a quaffle backwards and forwards, smiles plastered on all their faces.   
Scorpius had looked rather overwhelmed with it all: until he had been welcomed into the warm embrace of Molly Weasley who had exclaimed “You must be the boy Albus never shuts up about!” The blonde boys face had turned a slight shade of pink, but then Molly had delved into a conversation about her garden and how pesky the gnomes were being, Albus had relaxed as the older woman took Scorpius under her wing.   
After an eventful game of family quidditch: Albus’s family were incredibly competitive, the game had been at a complete draw until lily had dived and collected the snitch seconds before Harry could catch it. Albus had been playing keeper and had felt incredibly proud of himself after saving several shots from his older brother; who had just been signed by puddlemere united for the season after he left hogwarts! Scorpius had stayed firmly on the ground and had cheered Albus on from a safe distance, and had been engrossed in a conversation in french with fleur, the blonde boy had been thrilled when he realised she was there as it was the perfect opportunity to practise his french: he had spoken it as a boy and had spent most of the summer teaching himself again.   
Albus couldn’t understand a word they were saying, the most french he knew was ‘bonjour’ and ‘aurevoir’ but he did have to admit they made a terribly good looking pair standing there, the beautiful french language dripping elegantly off of their tounges. 

Scorpius had scrambled over to a sweaty Albus and congratulated him on his saves before they sat around the bonfire and ate Arthur’s slightly burnt bbq food (Molly had also prepared a lot of snacks herself: just in case.) Hermione had pulled out several bags of marshmallows from her cloak and passed them around, most of the wizards looked completely bewildered at this strange white blobs until an exhasperated Hermione had explained that they were muggle sweets that she used to have when camping with her parents in the Forest of Dean- and that no campfire was the same without them.   
Scorpius looked as dubious as Albus felt at the little pink and white treats but they had both copied Hermione and watched them turn a tinge of brown as the flames flickered and melted them. The delightful gooey mess that was a marshmallow coated Albus’s tounge, the sickly sweet tackled his taste buds and made him feel like he was tasting clouds.   
“These are brilliant” Scorpius had exclaimed, and snuck a couple into his cloak pocket to give to his father. 

The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange as the sun retreated to its hiding place. Arthur has pulled Scorpius into a conversation about the wonders of the moving pictures box - something Scorpius knew about after a year of taking muggle studies and both of them chatted along happily about the subject. After what seemed like several hours but was really only ten minutes, Albus stood up “I’m going for a wander, you coming scorp?”   
He nodded and followed Albus down a twisting path in the garden. 

Fairies fluttered around the branches of an old oak tree, glowing gently guiding Scorpius towards them. Somewhere along the journey Albus had grabbed Scorpius’s hand and pulled him along behind him. Disappointment flooded through Scorpius as the other boy dropped his hand and pulled out his wand, he tapped twice on one of the branches and a wooden ladder emerged, it had obviously been concealed with magic, Albus urged for Scorpius to head up the ladder. 

He appeared to be in a sort of tree house. The room was lit by a pale string of lights: which Albus would later tell him were muggle things called fairy lights, in the corner of the room was something Scorpius recognised: a record player. His mother had been particularly fond of muggle items and had one that she used to play in the ballroom and she would dance with her two boys to various muggle tunes, that record player sat collecting dust, for neither draco or Scorpius had the courage to listen to the melodys without her: it wouldn’t be the same.  
This record player appeared to have been charmed to play music constantly and a song danced around the room. However what caught Scorpius’s eye the most was the paintings that adorned the wall: watercolour landscapes, detailed ink sketching of magical creatures, and more specifically: him.   
When he stared at the wall of drawings, various different versions of Scorpius stared back.   
He was surrounded by stars, painted in a deep acrylic, or he was sat studying for his owls in their dorm room- painted in shades of forest green, or he was quite literally glowing: albus had painted him to look ethereal, a living angel.

Scorpius stood speechless. An easel stood to the side with an unfinished portrait on it, bottles of paint were strewn on the floor.   
“I’ve never taken anyone here before” Albus whispered. “My grandad built it for me when I was little, it was a place I could come when it all got a bit too much, and as the years went on I converted it into an art studio.” 

“Al, these are simply beautiful, why on earth did you never mention you could paint?!” Scorpius whispered back.

“I used to use it as a coping mechanism, whenever I felt upset, or lost or angry I’d pick up a paintbrush and let it all out.”

Scorpius pulled the shorter boy into a warm embrace, “I hope you know that if you ever ever need to vent, I’m here al, you can always talk to me.” 

Tears gently traced their way down albus’s cheek. “I know I can scorp, and it’s got so much better thanks to you. And now everytime I go to paint something, it always morphs into you.” Their faces were so close together Scorpius could feel his breath tickling his cheek. Carefully he wiped away albus’s tears and mumbled “everytime I close my eyes al, all I can see is your green eyes staring back at me: masked by your stupidly adorable messy hair, so I would say we were in the same boat.”   
Tentatively, like a nervous kitten taking it’s first step into the snow, their lips crashed together.   
Looking back on that moment: neither of them could remember who leaned in first. 

Warm in the embrace of each other, they sat and talked up in the treehouse, they talked about everything; when each of them had both realised they liked each other more than just platonically- for Scorpius it had been when he found himself in the dark timeline, all alone and realised that he couldn’t live without him. For Al it had been seeing his friend cope with his mother’s death, as he held his hand at the funeral and watched as the tears trickled down his soft cheeks: he knew he would be willing to sacrifice himself to even try and be able to take the pain away that the blonde boy was feeling. They spoke about how lonely Scorpius felt without the warm glowing presence of his mother at the manor, and Albus’s desperate need to be his own person: recognised for his own achievements and not just who his father was, and how he felt he disappointed everyone he knew, they spoke about the guilt Albus had felt at dragging Scorpius into the horrible mess that had ended up with Delphi torturing him, and the nightmares that they had both been having since the incident.   
They had both cried, but felt an overwhelming sense of love and joy at the fact that they no longer had to conceal their feelings for each other, they felt as if they were in a dream as they shared some kisses whilst the music hazily drifted around them. When they finally returned back to the others, and reality, they both had smiles so bright that they lit up the evening sky. 

After the adults had gotten a little bit tipsy, someone shouted a suggestion of a piggy back race across the garden, Albus jumped upon the taller boys back and clutched onto him for his life, as they stumbled about listening to the shrieks of his family members as they pushed each other and raced to be first,  
Albus Severus Potter was embraced in an overwhelming sense of joy.


End file.
